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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26627977">Silent Vigil</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wine_dark_seashells/pseuds/wine_dark_seashells'>wine_dark_seashells</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Silver Brumby Series - Elyne Mitchell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>They're all horses!, and only just found it again like today, i started this so long ago..., yay!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:13:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,976</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26627977</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wine_dark_seashells/pseuds/wine_dark_seashells</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rowan and Maybelle are just two ordinary fillies, living their lives in a secret valley. But when Rowan runs across trouble and is discovered by Thowra and Storm, as well as a stockman with a mean streak, will their lives ever be the same again? A gapfiller between The Silver Brumby and The Silver Brumby’s Daughter. Maybe slightly AU. Actually no. It's really an AU.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Pre-Original Female Character/Original Female Character</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. There Was A Movement At The Station</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hey! so i was going through my old folders and i found this. i haven't even looked at it for about two years, but i thought i would touch it up and hand it over to the shark pool. so, bloodthirsty readers, tear it into as many pieces as you want. just be sure to leave a review if you do.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The two young fillies went through the bush, their tails swishing behind them as they leapt and danced and pranced from tree to tree. Occasionally they would find a rock and one of them would leap up and dance and rear and whinny before continuing their parade through the bush. It was summer, the sun was shining and they were happy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smallest, the golden one, leaped onto a rock and propped short, throwing her brown mane back as she reared. She let out a loud call, and put her forelegs back on the ground. She paused and pricked her ears, listening. Her call, the call of a two-year-old filly, echoed around the bush. She stood still and continued to listen as it echoed and bounced back and forth between the hills and mountains. </span>
  <span>The filly watching gave a snort. The golden filly on the rock tossed her mane and looked at her companion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You will alert everyone within earshot- perhaps even to the Cascades,” her companion neighed. She danced on the ground, her lilac roan coat dappling in the sunlight that filtered between the eucalypt leaves above them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sudden snap made them both jump. The cream filly leapt down from the rock with a nervous whinny. “Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> say it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Say what, dear friend?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m warning you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Told you -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rowan!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So!” Rowan gave her companion a pointed look. “You attract </span>
  <em>
    <span>far</span>
  </em>
  <span> too much attention to yourself, Maybelle.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another snap shut them up. They gave each other a terrified look. Rowan nodded towards a gap in the rock wall that was cleverly concealed, but provided an escape route. But before they could do anything, a kangaroo hopped out of the foliage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Benny! You scared us!” Maybelle trotted forward happily. “Why didn’t you let us know it was you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry Maybelle, but you really should be more careful. I could have been anyone!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan walked forwards curiously. “Why are you here, Benny?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A warning, perhaps,” he replied. “I’ve heard from my fellow bush creatures that men are building traps. Make no mistake; a brumby hunt will ensure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan snorted and Maybelle gave a whinny.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A brumby hunt?” Maybelle said. “Where must we go?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do not know,” Benny admitted. “Perhaps head towards the Hidden Flat- though be careful not to run into Thowra. To be caught with Thowra is to forfeit your freedom.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thowra,” Rowan echoed. “Does he know? Surely he would be in hiding?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I daresay he does, but he has others to warn and he is always one to be reckless.” Benny rubbed his nose with one paw.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What if we went south?” Rowan asked. Benny shook his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That would take too long - the yard is almost finished. Go into hiding, and be quick!” With that he turned and hopped into the bush.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle pawed at the ground with one delicate black hoof. “Both of us know the way to the Hidden Flat, and if we can get to the Silent Pass, we can make it to Ash Valley. Does Thowra know about Ash Valley? Or the Silent Pass?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan frowned, thinking hard, before answering slowly. “No, I do not believe he does.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good.” Maybelle let out a breath that she did not know she had been holding. “We should go then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With that, the two fillies turned and melted silently into the scrub, and not a trace showed that they had been there at all.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. For The Word Had Passed Around</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Rowan led the way through a narrow tunnel of trees, panting slightly. She and Maybelle had run across traces of Men, and though they had gotten away on time, they were still sweating with fear. The camp had brought back memories that both fillies would rather have forgotten. Another brumby drive. A death defying dance that led them to each other. Loss of what had kept them safe.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The air was thick with smoke, and the terrifying smell of fear. Men shouted to each other, dogs barked, and brumbies screamed in terror. Rowan galloped her hardest, desperate to stay with her mother, the one familiar face in this nightmare. A branch slapped her across the face, and a rock gashed her leg. Over the roar of the stampede, she heard her mother. Rowan turned, and spotted her mother fighting for - maybe not her life, but at least her freedom. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Men had singled her out of the crowd and managed to get a lasso around her neck. Rowan screamed in terror, and rushed towards her mother, only to be knocked off her feet and swept away by the rush of horses. Rowan struggled to her hooves, wounded and exhausted, only to see a man turn to face her. What little courage she had left fled, and she whimpered in fear as the man approached. Rowan gave a scream, propped and </span>
  </em>
  <span>ran</span>
  <em>
    <span>. She had never run so fast in her life. By the time she could stop, her flight had led her to completely unfamiliar territory.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hearing the gurgling of water, Rowan followed the sound until it led her to a bubbling creek. As she limped towards it, she froze again as she spotted another filly. This filly was a creamy pinkish colour, with ginger points. Rowan stepped forward cautiously, and felt a tremor of anger as she realised that this new filly was hurt. How dare men harm young fillies like this!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What is your name?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rowan nudged the younger filly with her nose. She opened her eyes and gasped as the light assaulted them. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s okay, you’re going to be alright.” Rowan lay down beside this younger filly as she gasped out a name.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“My name- My name is Maybelle.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybelle looked at her with wide, fearful eyes. She drew a shaky breath in and asked; "What's yours?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Rowan."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Row-an," Maybelle rolled the name off her tongue, trying it out. "Rowan."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rowan?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle trotted to catch up. “Rowan, wait!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Maybelle?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just thinking.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They trotted in silence for a few minutes, before Rowan stopped, studying the terrain carefully. “Is it just me, Maybelle, or is this area changed somehow?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle looked around worriedly. “Are you sure-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A rumble echoed through the valley. After a few moments, the rumblings changed tone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan gasped as she realised what the rumbling was. It was horses. A huge herd of horses. They were obviously being chased by something, and after a few moments Maybelle spotted it too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Men!”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Run!” Rowan screeched. The horses were heading straight for them. Maybelle whipped around and leaped forwards. Rowan was just a pace behind as they fled, the horses charging behind them. With their current, panicked state of mind, they didn’t think that they were being driven straight for the yard, nor that they could have hidden and waited for the men to pass. Instead, they used the little head start they had in galloping away. But being only two-year-olds, they did not have the speed of the other horses, therefore in no time had the other horses caught up with them, and their moment to escape was gone. Rowan tried to stay by Maybelle’s side, but they were too small to battle the tide that was the other horses, and in no time not only the stampede had caught up to them, they had lost their opportunity to hide, and now were separated whilst men ran on either side of the mob.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan threw up her head and screamed with both fear and fury. As she galloped along, she tried to catch a glimpse of Maybelle’s creamy flank. Yet all she could see was a blur of grey, brown and black. There was no hint of her companion. She could only hope that they would both get free and meet up at the Ash Valley later. It was more secret than the Hidden Flat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly she felt something pushing against her side. She looked left and saw a silver and cream flash. Thowra! She tried to put a few horses between them but could not, not with all the rising terror. Some of the younger horses were already mad with it. Thowra threw up his great silver head and let out a cry. “Swing west! Swing west! Tell every horse! Swing west!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan could see the sense in that, so she added her own voice to the roar. “Swing west! Swing west!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She heard a snort beside her and looked to see Maybelle. She let out a sigh of relief. “Maybelle! Follow Thowra and swing west!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle nodded, and when Thowra pushed out of the herd to head them west, the two followed him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Men were pressing them from all sides, cracking their whips and yelling. “Stop them! Stop them!” But Thowra was like a tank, knocking over men and dogs alike. Rowan and Maybelle followed his example, kicking out at anything that came too close.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was no turning back. The men had closed off their path back to the herd. Most of them were after Thowra, with his creamy hide and silver mane and tail. There were still a few after the two fillies though. Rowan spotted a gap in the rock and nudged Maybelle. “Look!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybelle nodded, and they put on a spurt of speed, dashing and dodging in between men and trees. They disappeared into the tunnel, but the men could not stop in time and crashed into the rocks around the entrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their disappearance did not go unnoticed by Thowra, however. He saw them turn and wondered who the two fillies were, to follow him out of a herd, but to turn aside to dissuade him from enquiring who they were. He resolved to find them, the two brave fillies.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. That The Colt From Old Regret Had Got Away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Maybelle trotted nervously along the Silent Pass. She and Rowan had been forced out of their way by the drive, and it had taken them the better part of the day and a good deal of the night for them to work out a route that would take them back north. They hadn’t seen any life apart from birds for the entirety of their traveling. Some of their nerves had died down once they had reached the Hidden Flat, but there was still the risk of running into Thowra’s herd. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan was somewhere ahead, scouting the path, even though it was almost impossible for men to find, and even harder for them to stumble upon it. Maybelle trotted to catch up with her, and quickly realised that Rowan was further ahead than she’d thought. When she still couldn’t see her, Maybelle panicked. She burst into a canter, only to come to the end of the trail. It was always hard to find the next part of the path.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spotting the speckled gum that marked the entrance, Maybelle trotted forward, slipping through the tight gap in the foliage and rocks, coming out onto the small, grassy cliff top that overlooked Ash Valley. The valley was small, covered by a roof of leaves that parted just enough to let streams of golden sunlight through, though currently the light was silver, from the full moon floating far above Maybelle’s head. The valley was hidden only because of the large cliffs that surrounded it, covered by trees and only accessible from the inside. To the outside it was impassable. There was simply no way down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On one side of the valley was a waterfall. The silver water tumbled and turmoiled its merry way to a river which stretched all the way to the other side of the valley, where it disappeared into a small lake. All the cliffs were covered in stone, leading to outcrops and paths and caves, all the way to the top. On one of those overhangs was Rowan, prancing and showing off as she danced around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle watched her for a moment, one foreleg raised, her ears pointed forwards. Then she leapt to the edge of the clifftop she was on - small compared to the other ones. She threw her head back and called, loudly, the call unique to her, with both her youth and carefree spirit reflected. Then she bounded down the cliff, leaping from rock to rock down the path she knew so well. She reached the grassy bottom, and cantered across it. She then climbed the path to intercept Rowan as </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> went dancing along.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come, dance,” Rowan said, and executed a huge leap to a ledge that Maybelle would not have even dared to try.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle wheeled around and made her way happily back down, where she cantered over to the edge of the valley. She loved to dance, but all she did now was plunge straight into the lake. She let out a surprised nicker at the icy cold and scrambled out. She snorted, then trotted over to a small sandy patch at the base of a rock by the cliff. She lay down and began to roll.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whilst Rowan danced, she thought. She had seen Thowra looking at them before they disappeared. Did he recognise them? Surely not; they kept away from other horses. But still… She hoped he would forget them. The last thing they needed was for the Brumby King to be interested in them. Their life was joyful - with the exception of the occasional run from men - and they did not want their peace and freedom to end any time soon - the less who knew about them, the better.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan trotted down the hill to the lakeside. She stood there for a moment, then burst into a gallop, leaping off the bank and into the water. Maybelle watched from her position on the ground, wondering how a two-year-old filly - barely older than herself - could look so majestic and powerful, with her ginger mane and lilac coat. Of course, that image was ruined as Rowan stood up, missed her footing, and landed with a splash on her back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snorting with laughter, Maybelle stood up and moved to a patch of sweet snowgrass. Rowan shook her mane and tail free of water and came to join her, and the two passed the night in companionable silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few days later, they were back in the forest, dancing till their heart's content. The sky was cloudy, but few sunbeams filtered through the trees here and there. Maybelle found it fun to leap from grass patches, to sunbeams, and so forth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan found this amusing as she whirled over to a fallen tree trunk. She sprang over it, gracefully and beautifully, kicking her back hooves, before she landed on the other side in a gallop. Maybelle noticed this and, not wanting to be left behind, sprang over the log and after her companion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was fun, they both found, keeping a light and adventurous pace for the next few miles. Ash Valley was far behind them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They came to, and passed Paddy Rush’s Bogong, and soon came by the Brindle Bull. They skirted it, heading to the Crackenback. They crossed, playfully, throwing spray around them. But now, though midday, the sky was completely covered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A storm,” Rowan commented as they watched the water droplets flying through the air shine. Maybelle said nothing. The river was little more than a stream, so she stood in the centre, water swirling around her hooves. She stood still, her ears pricked and nose twitching, picking up whatever scent the wind blew at them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stallion.” Maybelle murmured quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan stiffened. “Let’s go,” she hissed. She was the first to leap out of the water, back onto the side of their valley, and the Brindle Bull; the scent blew from the north. Maybelle stayed in the Crackenback.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” she said, “Just perhaps, we can play a game.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan snorted. She didn’t reply though, she could hear twigs snap. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He is close.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She didn’t recognise the scent, but Maybelle seemed to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who?” Her nicker was as soft as she could make it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle looked north. “Copper. Arrow’s son.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite herself, Rowan exclaimed. “Arrow!” They were too young to know if their dams had told them, but they seemed to know in a way without really knowing the story of Arrow, and the fight that had caused the stallion’s end, when he fought Thowra.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was silence. Then a chestnut stallion with three white socks and a white blaze stepped out from the northern bank. Rowan stepped back, and seemingly melted into the bush. She knew her colour was strange, and the stallion, a three year old, would undoubtedly come for her. But his attention was on Maybelle. Maybelle, who - even though her patterning was not ‘rare’, exactly - was creamy and young. She was lovely, small and pretty - but swift as could be, and quite smart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yet she was in the middle of the river.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan watched from the bush, trying not to be fearful. Fear was a strong scent, and undoubtedly Copper would notice her. But he had all eyes for Maybelle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had paused on the bank, then he threw up his head and neighed. Maybelle watched him and did not answer. He snorted, then trotted, lifting his hooves high in the air, down the bank, towards her. Maybelle did not move until he paused next to her, extending his nose. Then she sprang away, joyfully. Her first leap brought her onto the bank. The second brought her to the edge of the bush. She turned to where Rowan hid and whinnied. Copper instinctively followed her gaze. He saw Rowan and eyed her. Then he reared, letting out a wild call.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan flattened her ears. She considered fighting - she was surprisingly good at it - but Maybelle was already dancing away, calling to Copper as she went. Copper looked from Maybelle to Rowan, before trotting towards the latter. Rowan snorted and bared her teeth, stepping back hastily. She saw Maybelle notice Copper’s reluctance to follow her and came back, calling. Copper looked at her, neighed once, then turned back to Rowan. He reared, his own call ringing out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan ignored it. She turned, pushing her way through the tea trees, her tail swishing behind her. Copper followed, and Maybelle behind him. Rowan continued, her pace increasing. Soon she was in a canter. Copper called behind her, and she continued to ignore. The air seemed to press down as the storm approached.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let us dance!” Maybelle called again. She was ignored.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come!” Copper cried. Rowan did not reply. She leapt over another fallen log. Her gaze jerked to the sky and she noted the thick expanse of dark clouds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By now, Maybelle was panicking. What had started out as a game had quickly turned serious. She could only hope that Rowan could evade Copper and they could both get back to Paddy Rush’s Bogong unharmed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Swerve, swerve!” A gang-gang cried overhead. Rowan heeded the cry, and swerved, going as fast as she could through the trees. How she wished for loose rocks, or swampy ground, where she could easily get ahead, but perhaps Copper was agile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle continued to call.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The trees began to thin. Rowan pushed herself to a gallop, relying on her knowledge of the terrain. It did no good - she could hear Copper behind her. She risked a glance and nickered in fear; he was closer than she had thought. She could not go faster.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle called as loud as she could. Copper did not seem to hear. They raced for miles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan looked up and snorted with relief. They had come to the edge of the bush. The Big Boggy Swamp was just ahead and the river was to their left. But unfortunately for her, Copper also knew the landscape well. He put on a spurt of speed and cut Rowan off. She propped and swung around, but it was too late. Copper had succeeded in heading her in the direction of Dead Horse Hut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rowan gasped as an idea came to her. Storm had a herd that grazed near Yarraman’s Valley! If she could make it to Dead Horse Ridge, she could seek shelter. But would Storm help her?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. He Had Joined The Wild Bush Horses: He Was Worth A Thousand Pound</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Thowra and Storm stood on Dead Horse Ridge, observing the horses gazing below in the dying light. They talked of nothing in particular, happy just to be in each others’ company. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Storm gazed down at his herd proudly. There were about twenty mares and ten foals, all ranging in colour from pale brown to nearly black. Kuiran, the pride of his herd - a wise mare who was a beautiful pale gold - also watched. He nickered to her and she gave him a happy whinny in reply.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thowra threw his head up as if listening to something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” Storm looked around and listened, but could hear nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought I heard something. That’s all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we should check it out. What if someone’s in trouble?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thowra turned to face Dead Horse Hut. “It came from that direction.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Storm nodded, and the two slipped into the shadows.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan galloped as fast as she could. She could barely feel the ground beneath her hooves. The lilac roan filly practically flew over the snowgrass. Her gingery mane and tail streamed behind her, making her look like a sprite, a fey creature. The few animals who were braving the oncoming storm looked on in wonder. They had never seen such a graceful spirit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was absolutely terrified.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she raced across the open plain, Rowan cursed Maybelle and her love for mischief. If they had just slipped away quietly, like she had suggested, they wouldn’t be doing this. And Rowan </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <span> Copper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If she got out of this, Rowan wasn’t planning on talking to Maybelle for a month. She looked up and gave a cry of despair. In her distracted state, Copper had managed to drive her into a close ended valley. There was no way out!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stumbled to a stop, and looked behind her. Copper was advancing slowly, clearly just as exhausted as she was. Rowan threw up her head and let out a scream of desperation. Maybelle was nowhere to be seen. Rowan snorted, and flattened her ears to the sides of her head, backing against the wall of the valley. Copper paused a few paces off, then reared and called her. She bared her teeth in answer, ready to fight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then two blurs flashed past, one brown, one silver. Rowan saw them collide with Copper, and she didn’t waste the opportunity. She summoned her energy and leaped past the three horses, till she had put the valley behind her. She slowed then, but went on quickly, leaving no trace for any horse to track her by. She did not notice the bay horse as he saw her race past.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle, though, noticed the horse - who she recognised to be Storm, from memory of looking out across the Cascades on multiple occasions, and who else would be with Thowra? - looking after Rowan and knew it was time to leave. But just as she turned to head away, she caught Storm’s eye as he looked up, directly at her. Both horses paused, though Thowra was still enjoying himself, leaping around Copper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle’s breath was still, and she wondered if he saw her or the bush. But it was no doubt he saw her, when he lifted his head and neighed. Maybelle turned and went away quickly, she, too, leaving no track as she went.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle entered Ash Valley under the cover of darkness. She trotted towards the stream and had a long drink. Looking around, she quickly became panicked. There was no sign of Rowan!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just then, a rock rolled. Maybelle looked up and saw Rowan stumbling out of the tunnel that marked the entrance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rowan!” Maybelle cried, trotting forward happily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then she saw the cuts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan gave her a deadly glare, then muttered, “Met a dingo.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But the dingos like you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Throwing her another glare, Rowan replied, “Stepped on its tail.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seeing that Maybelle was sufficiently cowed into silence, Rowan limped forward to get a drink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the silence didn’t last for long.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are you limping?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan exploded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why?</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’ll tell you why! Because you wanted to play a silly game that nearly got me worse than killed! Because Copper saw me as a result of your foolish actions, and I was forced to gallop for over an hour! Because of your stupidity, I came out of it so bloody </span>
  <em>
    <span>tired</span>
  </em>
  <span> that I didn’t see the dingo laying across the path! Because that dingo bit me! Because, trying to get away from an enraged dingo bitch, I fell off a cliff! And </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I had to get into Ash Valley by forcing my way through bush and scrub and a freaking </span>
  <em>
    <span>landslide</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that no doubt you set off, calling Copper! And you ask me </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She snorted, her nostrils dilating, then stamped her foot and continued to the stream. Maybelle hung her head, ashamed and upset that her only friend in the world was mad at her. She felt terrible, but knew that Rowan wouldn’t accept an apology until she cooled off a bit. It could take days.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are you talking to me?” Rowan snapped before dropping her head to drink. Maybelle flinched, but turned and trudged away. She didn’t stop until she was at the very edge of the valley, the cliffs on one side, a wattle tree over the top of her. She sighed, and lay down, her legs underneath her. Rowan had finished drinking, and was limping slowly down to stand by the waterfall. They both spent the night where they were.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle woke at dawn. She felt an oppressing sense that something wasn’t right, that something was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span> even. She looked around, and noticed that Rowan had disappeared. Before she could panic, Maybelle reminded herself that Rowan probably just needed to spend some time alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan watched Maybelle raise her head and look around, before turning and leaving Ash Valley. She just needed to go somewhere until Maybelle realised that they weren’t going to be friends for a while.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan carefully picked her way through the bush once she got to the second part of the exit trail, minding her sore leg. She still couldn’t believe how bad the day before had been. She had been chased by an arrogant, self-obsessed stallion, run practically to the ground, been bitten and scratched numerous times by a dingo, chased off a cliff, run into men - she hadn’t told Maybelle about </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> - and been pestered by a foolish filly whom she had once called her friend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she limped through the trees, Rowan realised that she had no idea where she was going, nor how to get back. Hearing a gurgling, bubbling sound, she came upon a meandering stream. The sound of the watercourse was soothing, and Rowan soon felt her troubles fade slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The clouds passed over her head, stark white in the blue sky. There were brilliant colours all around; the cyan and periwinkle of the sky and a passing pond, the emeralds and shamrocks of leaves and grass. The snake she passed was a brilliantly beautiful thing, red and yellow and gold. It’s scales glowed in the sunlight. A whisper of memory named it as a Downs Tiger Snake. Rowan didn’t know how she knew that. Whatever it chose to name itself, it was an alluring animal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan wandered on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sunset passed her by as she ambled. The stars were diamonds scattered across black rocks. The moon was an opal nestled in black sand. The night was dark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sun rose orange and beautiful in a pale sky. It sparkled off a waterhole, deep blue in the dawn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sun came accompanied by the realisation that she could not possibly become any more lost than she already was. Rowan was content to simply follow the stream. She let the sunlight wash over her lilac coat, and ripple through her ginger mane and tail.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before she knew it, Rowan had come to a dead end - at least, what looked like a dead end.  Upon closer inspection, there was a gap in the rock wall in front of her. It was narrow, and covered by foliage, but still passable. Rowan edged forward, and realised that she would have to swim. She plunged into the frigid water and let the gentle current pull her under the lip of the cliff.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a few minutes of slow swimming, Rowan spotted daylight ahead. She renewed her attempt and came to a realisation. She would have to duck underwater to continue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So she did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She came up in a pool in a beautiful valley. She kept herself partially submerged and hidden by water lilies as she saw more horses. Her eyes widened as she took in the cliffs surrounding the peaceful valley. Something moved close to her and she realised with a start that there was a sleeping filly a few metres away. She gave another start when she realised that the filly was silver and creamy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In fact, most of the horses were either grey or silver!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who are you? How did you get in?” a grey mare whickered fiercely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan saw that the current had pulled her to the bank. Eyes wide, she turned to slip through the narrow gap in the brush on the other side, but found that she was blocked by another grey mare. Rowan whimpered in fear. She couldn’t help it, she was having such a bad day!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she heard it, the mare’s fierce visage softened a bit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just come out. You have nothing to be afraid of.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She took a step forward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My name is Boon-Boon.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. So All The Stocks Had Gathered To The Fray</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Maybelle hadn’t left Ash Valley when the light began to fade. The feeling she had felt when she woken a day had gone, but with the first set of the sun it returned. She cantered from side to side of the valley, worry tapped out in her hoofsteps. Rowan hadn’t come back, and with every passing hour Maybelle’s worry increased.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first stars had started to come out when Maybelle climbed the sides of the cliff to the secret entrance way. She stood on the grass flat outside, waiting, her ears pricked. She could hear nothing. She could </span>
  <em>
    <span>smell</span>
  </em>
  <span> nothing. She went out, slowly, delicately placing her hooves on the grass as she crept forwards and through the forest. A mopoke called in the trees overhead. She jumped then looked up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Greetings, Mopoke,” she said. “Have you seen Rowan - the lilac filly?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The mopoke ignored her and flew away, calling “Mopoke, mopoke,” as he did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle sighed again. She reached down and sniffed the grass at her feet. She lifted her head slightly and looked around for tracks. She saw none. She shook her mane with a snort. Where was Rowan? She shouldn’t worry, she knew, but she could still sense that </span>
  <em>
    <span>something wasn’t right.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She went on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle hasn’t really been paying attention to where she was going, but she remembered she crossed a few near-dried rivers. But when she paused at the top of a hill, the sweat that had been on her coat from the heat - when had it got so hot? - ran cold. There, below her, was Dead Horse Hut. She snorted with fear and backed away, leaves concealing her. Not a moment too soon - just as she hid herself, the door to the hut opened. A man walked out to the paddock, where a black horse rested next to a young grey yearling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man went into the paddock, two leads in his hand. He tied one to the bridle the black horse was already wearing and approached the yearling. The man attempted to catch the yearling who reared and darted away each time the man approached, Maybelle half-watched with amusement, while considering the fact that maybe the yearling was stronger than he looked. He also looked quite handsome.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She continued to watch as the man saddled the stock-horse, noting the bags strapped to the saddle. Once the stock-horse was ready, the man turned to the yearling, now tied to a fence. The man approached him cautiously, holding out his hand. The yearling responded by snapping his head around. The man pulled his hand back, and the yearlings’ teeth fastened on air. Maybelle snorted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quickly, she tensed, but she was too far away for them to hear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, the man had the yearling on the lead behind him. He climbed onto the stock-horse and the three of them made their way up the hill. Maybelle gave a soft nicker as they passed close by. She couldn’t resist - she moved slightly as the yearling threw up his head to look. His eyes locked onto Maybelle’s, and he whinnied. Maybelle moved back into the bush, still watching.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She followed behind them as the man led them through the bush. The yearling knew she was there, and every so often looked back to see her following. The man and the stock-horse did not, however. After a while, the man stopped and tied both horses to a tree whilst he went down to a spring. They were in a clearing that was narrow enough that Maybelle dared come closer. She thought the whole thing fun, as she stepped out of the tree cover.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both horses saw her, and looked at her. She danced, then stopped, and reared. She let a cry as she did so, before melting back into the trees. She watched as the man came back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, what was that?” He said, patting the stock-horses neck and keeping away from the yearling. “A wild horse? That ghost horse, maybe?” He chuckled. “Well, they’d better not be thinking to be a nuisance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle moved down to the spring and leaped out. This time all three of them looked at her. The man’s arm reached by the stock-horse’s saddle, and pulled something. Maybelle did not notice. She danced, keeping their attention. She did see the man take a step forward, and then she noticed the rope in his hand. She paused, then reared again, and let out a call.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man came closer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle stopped, and stared at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Easy, girl,” the man murmured. “Now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> aren’t a ghost, are you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle snorted, and tossed her mane. She looked at the yearling, then back at the man. She was tempted to let the man get close enough to put that rope around her neck, but yesterday’s dash was fresh in her mind. Her gaze flickered back to the yearling, who was watching her, his ears pricked forwards. She turned her attention back to the man. She had to get this right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man moved closer, his hand held out in front of him. He clicked his tongue, and Maybelle seized the moment to rear. Her mane and tail blew behind her as she sprang forwards, then to the side, and she was gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man stared after her. After a few moments, he spoke.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, there’s certainly more than one ghost horse here.” He laughed. “Guess I’d call you Sylph, huh? They ain’t more than sprites themselves.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle stuck around to hear the last words. She called, amused, then headed away.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan stared. It was… it was… it was Boon-Boon!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a start she realised where her wandering path had led her. This was the famed Secret Valley!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And she did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> want Thowra to find her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seeing her confusion and terror, Boon-Boon took another step forwards. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please come out, little one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan inched towards the far shore, away from the mares. She felt the sand beneath her feet and prepared to leap to safety.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She waited, however, for one of the other horses to make a move. Boon-Boon smiled, thinking that Rowan was calming down. But a whinny echoed over the valley. Thowra had seen the commotion and was coming down to investigate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was all Rowan needed. She sprang to the shore, dodging one creamy mare - Kunama perhaps? - and ducked under some tangled branches, only to smack into Storm as he came around a rock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She bounced off of him and sat down hard in the sand. Shaking her head to clear the spots from her vision, she looked up to the towering stallion as he staggered back in shock. She whimpered as she tried to stand and collapsed back to the ground. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who are you, young one? Are you hurt?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan scrambled away from him, heart pounding. She froze as she heard another voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is going on? Who is this filly?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan snapped her head around so fast her neck hurt. Now she could see another stallion coming down the path. This stallion was silver and cream, magnificent in his form and stride. Thowra!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sucked in a breath, debating the best course of action to take. She couldn’t sneak away, everyone was watching her. But maybe if she ran suddenly, pushed aside Kunama - or Asta, maybe - she could make it to the cliff path before Thowra or Storm could stop her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Thowra looked at Boon-Boon questionly, Rowan inched towards the path, but before she could make a move, Thowra turned to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who are you, young one?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan stammered out something unintelligible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thowra frowned. “I didn’t catch that. What did you say?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gulped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Storm took a step forward and Rowan didn’t bother waiting to see what he had </span>
</p><p>
  <span>to say. She bolted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Past Boon-Boon, knocking over Gili, dodging Thowra, past Storm, knocking over another mare - whose name she didn’t know - and up the trail. Thowra and Storm stared for a second, amazed at how well she seemed to know the trail - though she’d clearly never seen it before - and then took off after her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rowan stumbled a bit over the unfamiliar trail, but soon found her hooves and </span>
  <em>
    <span>flew</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The path under her hooves was rocky, unstable, but Rowan passed over it with ease. The track fell away beneath her feet as she galloped for her life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But before she knew it, Rowan ran out of ground. She baulked, terrified, as the rocks fell away from the cliff side. Swinging around, she shot up the path that had turned aside suddenly, the stallions close behind. She burst into the Hidden Flat, startling a group of wallabies sunning themselves, and galloped madly towards the exit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She emerged from the Hidden Flat gasping for breath. Immediately she dove into the cover of the snowgums, dashing and dodging through the trees and undergrowth. As she ran, her heart beat out words like a mantra.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t stop, keep running. Don’t let them catch up, keep running. Keep your freedom.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle went back to Dead Horse Hut a few hours later. The man had returned with his horse and the yearling. Now all three of them were sleeping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybelle called.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The yearling threw up his head and whinnied. Maybelle stepped from the trees, and walked down to the paddock. The yearling snorted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am Maybelle,” Maybelle told him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have no name,” he replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle snorted, then eyed the tall fence that separated them. “Can you jump over?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The yearling shook his mane and looked at the fence. “It’s tall,” he said dubiously. “I don’t think so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle snorted again. She backed away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thowra made this jump, didn’t he? Yes - to free Golden he would have had to. And she did, too.</span>
  </em>
  <span> To the yearling, she said, “Stand back.” Then she galloped towards the fence, bunching her muscles to spring. She landed in the paddock. For a second, panic seized her. She was in the man’s yard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quickly, it’s easy!” She neighed. She was about to bound closer to the fence when the door to the hut flew open. A light shone onto Maybelle and she heard the man exclaim, “Sylph! In my yard!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle overcame her surprise, and raced forwards, clearing the fence. When her hooves touched the ground, she didn’t stop until she was safely in the trees. Behind her, she heard the man swear. She paused and found the yearling had followed her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let us go,” he said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know a hideout,” Maybelle said. Not Ash Valley, or the Hidden Flat- just a regular valley that was well enough hidden. “It’s a way away.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lead the way,” the yearling neighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle did. They raced on through the night. Maybelle was determined to put as much distance as possible between them and the man. The yearling felt the same, and it wasn’t until dawn, when, exhausted, they collapsed in a small spring in the centre of a clump of trees, by South Ramshead. They were hidden and in the cool shade, water swirling around their legs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle lay on her side, her head on the bank of the spring. The yearling stayed standing. After a few hours, Maybelle woke. The sun was in the middle of the sky, she noted, as she pushed her way out of the trees. In the small clearing surrounding it, the yearling was grazing. Maybelle was hungry, but she simply looked at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are you from?” She asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The yearling threw his mane and snorted. “South. Far south,” he said. “I wandered too far and the man caught me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle snorted. “Let us go south then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about the valley? The safe place?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be safe.” Maybelle promised him. They grazed in silence for half an hour or so, before Maybelle led the way south-east. They cantered for a while, before Maybelle slowed to a trot. She planned to skirt Dead Horse Hut and cross the Crackenback. She would take the yearling to the mouth of Yarraman’s Valley, where she might leave him to see if Rowan had returned to Ash Valley.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They passed Dead Man’s Hut, only picking up a faint scent of smoke - stale; the man had not been to the hut recently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He only stayed because he saw you,” the yearling said unexpectedly. “He should be long gone now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle snorted. “Even so. We must be careful.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They went on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In no time they crossed the Crackenback River and, now at a steady canter once more, Maybelle lead the way through the bush. She kept by a river - which, like all the others, was little more than a stream - occasionally crossing over to the other bank, or walking in the middle. Occasionally, she would go into the forest, and loop around, or walk upstream for a while, then go in the river further down. She could sense it confused the yearling, but he said nothing. Eventually, after walking in the river for about an hour, she walked out, in the direction of the Cascades.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stopped at the top of a cliff, the Cascades, filled with horses, stretching below them. The yearling snorted fearfully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is this not dangerous?” He asked. “We are but yearlings.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle was confident, and itching for fun. “It will be fine. We shall go </span>
</p><p>
  <span>down and run with the herds for a bit.” Then, as an afterthought, she added, “We will head south as we do so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The yearling snorted again. “You will get captured.” He turned to look at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle tossed her mane. “We will have fun,” she insisted, then began to make her way down to the grass. Hoofbeats behind her told her that the yearling was following. Once she was firmly on the grass, she broke into a gallop, racing along towards the main herd. As she went, she occasionally kicked the air, or paused to tap the ground with her dance. The horses did not notice her, until she leaped onto a rock and reared, letting out a loud call.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All eyes turned to her. There was quiet as Maybelle’s forefeet fell against the ground again. Then she noticed a dun two-year-old head towards her, prancing, his feet high and his mane thrown up. Maybelle looked at him, then cast a glance at the yearling who stood next to the rock, looking nervous. He was looking at the dun, too, his muscles tensed as though ready to fight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You need not fight him,” she said quietly. “I will handle my own.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The yearling gave a snort. The dun stopped a few paces away, then threw up his head, crying a challenge. Maybelle, watching the yearling from the corner of her eye, was glad when he did not answer. She focused her attention on the dun.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The dun moved closer and the yearling backed away. The dun looked at the yearling, then at Maybelle. He nickered. Maybelle did not reply.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The dun took a step closer, and Maybelle reared with a neigh. Then a chestnut sprang at the dun. With a start, Maybelle recognised Copper. She froze and wondered what to do. Then, as the dun and Copper began to fight, she called to the yearling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Follow me!” Then Maybelle sailed over the two fighting colts. She landed, then raced towards the herd, who, in a single movement, swung around and was running through the valley. She, thankfully once again with the yearling at her side, dodged and weaved through the racing horses. Copper and the dun were behind them, either fighting or running with the herd, Maybelle did not know. As she went, she wondered about the absence of Storm. He must have gone off with Thowra.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a while, Maybelle and yearling left the herd whilst they stopped to graze, and continued south.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. There Was Harrison, Who Made His Pile When Pardon Won The Cup</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Rowan stumbled through rough scrub, panting desperately. Her aching leg and numerous scratches had been aggravated and bashed in the heat of the chase, and a few of her wounds were bleeding again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stopped at the edge of a clearing, and sighed as she recognized it. She had definitely been here before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More than once.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Behind her, she heard the almost silent steps of Thowra and Storm as they caught up with her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She turned and backed into the clearing, never turning away from the approaching stallions. Thowra was in front, Storm slightly behind. Thowra spoke first.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are you afraid of us, little one? We will not hurt you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan sighed, and bowed her head in resignation. She looked up in shock as she felt warm breath ruffle her mane. Storm looked down on her with a kindly smile. He touched her forehead gently, then said; “Be at peace, little one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rowan looked around and saw Thowra still at the edge of the clearing, looking out into the bush. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is there a reason you can’t stand to be around us? I’ve seen you before, but every time you’ve slipped away before I could speak.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because…” Rowan struggled to find the words to explain. They wouldn’t come. “I want to talk, to learn from you… but- oh I don’t know. You’re very…  noticeable. People are drawn to you, I guess. And I just… don’t like people.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thowra nodded. “I think I understand.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Storm looked back and forth between them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We will watch over you while you heal. We only want to be your friends. Sleep now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But why? What am I to you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Storm looked shocked, but answered. “To us? To us you are a hurt filly who is terrified of us when she shouldn’t be. We want you to trust us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But, but-” She stuttered, trying to explain. “I - I like being free.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And we will not hinder your freedom, young one. Now rest.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan blinked twice in disbelief, then realised what he was saying. She sank to the ground gracelessly, accepting the offer of companionship. Storm lowered himself next to her, making himself comfortable as Rowan drifted onto the haze of sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She could find her own way tomorrow. They would let her go.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Rowan woke, the first thing she heard was the call of a lyrebird. Why had she been so quick to trust the stallions? That was not like her at all. She blinked sleepily, and realised that Storm was still lying next to her. He had stayed with her all night! This filled her with a warm feeling as she realised that she had slept better than she had in weeks. That was why she trusted them. With them she felt safe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Storm nuzzled her mane in a paternal sort of way. Dimly she heard him say:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need to leave this place soon, little one. It is too close to Men.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the words, she shook off the last vestige of sleep and blinked again. She pulled herself to her feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Storm stood beside her, and, as Thowra led the way, they started on their way back to the Hidden Flat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They hadn’t gone a hundred meters when Rowan caught a scent on the breeze. She stiffened, recognising it as a tame horse. She nudged Storm and nodded into the direction it had come from.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But where is the man?” Thowra murmured. Storm stepped closer to Rowan in an offer of protection, but she shrugged it off, preparing to run.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then they saw the man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was armed with a shotgun, a whip and the dreaded lasso. He had stayed downwind of them until he could get closer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And there was a black tracker at his side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thowra threw up his head and reared, pawing the air with razor sharp hooves. He screamed his defiance, roaring at the men, and at the tame black mare that had just come into the clearing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The white man scrambled back, edging around to get closer. Storm stepped forwards threateningly, daring the man to approach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the black tracker just smiled. He looked on in awe, as he had never seen such magnificent horses. He looked straight at Rowan, his smile gentling as she stepped back in aprehension.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Duruga.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One word. Rowan heard it, blinking in curiosity. He put his hand on his breast, bowing his head in respect… and apology. She stared at him, and he smiled again, melting back into the bush and scrub.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His last words echoed as he disappeared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Run fast, Duruga.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The white man whipped his head around. “Baragula!” he bellowed. “Baragula, come back!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the black man was long gone. The man turned to face the horses again, his gaze fastening on Rowan. He stepped forwards, swinging the whip. Rowan lunged forwards, despite Storm’s best efforts to stop her, and reared in front of him, slashing the air with her hooves. The man gasped, shocked at how beautiful and graceful the filly was. Rowan plunged back down to earth, gave the man a haughty, superior look, then leapt to the side and melted into the bush like a ghost.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Storm lunged forward, his teeth clamping onto the man's hand. The man screamed, staggering back in shock and Storm followed Rowan into the bush. Thowra stayed a moment to impress his power onto the man, who practically whimpered in terror. He narrowed his eyes and snorted aggressively. He stepped forward, then leapt sideways and disappeared like the free spirit that he was.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle sensed trouble on the air. The black cockatoos cried overhead. In the safety of their thick tree thicket, the yearling pressed close to her side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trouble, trouble!” The cockatoos screeched.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle shivered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trouble?” The yearling echoed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ignore them.” Maybelle said as though the warnings did not bother her. “We’ll continue on.” The cockatoos cried again and she added, “However, keep an eye and ear out just in case.” Then she led them out of their shelter, into thinner trees. She itched to turn around and find Rowan, but she forced herself to keep going south. They went in near silence, neither speaking, until the yearling broke the pattern.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wish I was a cloud. I could be free - go where I please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle looked at him. “Cloud,” she repeated and tossed her mane in </span>
</p><p>
  <span>amusement. “Your name can be Cloud. Come, we need to reach Stockwhip Hill by nightfall.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The yearling snorted with surprise. “You know Stockwhip Hill?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I listen well,” Maybelle replied. They went on. Come nightfall, they had reached Stockwhip Hill. They didn’t find much of a shelter, just a small cave. As they settled in for the night, Maybelle, standing, stayed awake. She would leave today. Let the yearling, Cloud, continue south. She was going back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Cloud was fast asleep, Maybelle snuck away, creeping silently, careful of where she placed her hooves. When she was far enough away from where Cloud slept, she quickened into a canter, galloping when she could, heading north. Before long, she had reached the place they had been sheltering when they heard the cockatoos. She went on, and on, the trees blurring on either side, and her hooves did not seem to touch the ground. Everything was the dark colour of night, but her mane and tail flew behind her, catching the moonlight and shining gold. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle kept running, the spirit of the night giving her strength and speed, and did not stop until, exhausted and gasping for air, she reached Cascade Creek. She plunged her head into the water and drank, before plunging her whole body in. Her flanks were steaming and her body encrusted in sweat. The water was not large enough to fully engulf her, but she shifted around until she was clean and had caught her breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then she stepped out and crept onwards, her mad dash gone, replaced by caution.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sky was lightening, and she kept a lookout on the bush around her, determined not to be taken by surprise. As she skirted the Cascades, she considered running out and announcing her presence, then decided against it. She went on, up towards Dead Horse Hut. The man surely wasn’t still there - Cloud had said he was leaving - but maybe with Cloud’s loss, the man would stay to look. Maybe… but Maybelle hoped not. Whilst he seemed entranced by her, she knew that he could capture her and she did not want to be captured. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He would try and tame her and she did not want to be tamed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To be free as a cloud</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That was what Cloud said, wasn’t it? Maybelle </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> as free as a cloud, but she was also as free as the months of spring, the warmth and beauty of growth, the temperament of autumn, all of which inspired her name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A twig snapped. Maybelle froze, one forefoot raised. She hardly dared breath, listening. It was silent, just the birdcalls and a distant howl of a dingo. She was about to relax when she saw a flicker through the trees directly in front of her. She almost snorted in fear. Chestnut. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Copper</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She backed away, slowly, slowly, putting each hoof down as carefully as she could. Yet she had a feeling it was hopeless. She was upwind...her fear scent was blowing towards him. Her heart pounded, her muscles tensed. She was ready to leap away, though she didn’t think she could get far, the mad dash earlier having been the surefire way to leave her exhausted. Whilst she still felt swift, she didn’t think it would be long, if she had to run, until she could not go anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Copper paused, and looked towards Maybelle. Maybelle froze. He began to walk towards her. Sweat ran through Maybelle’s coat, magnetised by the heat of the summer sun as it began to rise. She stayed still, wondering what to do. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Free as a cloud</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she repeated in her mind. Isn’t that how she acted all the time? Dramatic, playful, carefree...that was how Rowan described her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Go with it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Maybelle thought. She threw up her head, her burnt ginger mane catching a stray gust of wind. It blew behind her, shining and glimmering in the dawn’s light, as she let out her cry. She paused, seeing how Copper reacted. He also paused, and looked at her a moment, then let out his own, loud, ringing call. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle reared and called again, then danced, knowing the dawn’s light would make her glow and highlight her glory.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Copper continued to trot towards her, his head held high as he gazed at her aura of dawn’s light. Maybelle poised, waiting until he was a few paces away, then sprang into the bush and halted, looking back. He followed and she began to lead him on, excitement making her eyes gleam. She led him on and on, always just a few paces ahead, a dancing ray of sunlight. Then, as the pink began to clear from the sky, she disappeared.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Old Man With His Hair as White as Snow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Rowan and Storm trotted along the banks of a calm creek, making their way indirectly to the Hidden Flat. Thowra had yet to catch up with them, and the two had no idea where he was. Storm was constantly looking around suspiciously. After a few minutes, he nodded his head to a part of the creek that swelled and broadened into a regular watering hole, and said, “We can wait here for Thowra, it is secluded enough to be safe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan collapsed to the grassy ground with a sigh. She was completely exhausted, and her wounded leg had started hurting again. Sweat was caked behind her ears and under her mane from the almost constant running.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She dipped her nose into the water and drank deeply. The ice cold water filled her mouth and trickled down her throat. Rowan would have drunk more, but a rustling in the bushes captured her attention. She tensed as Storm stepped forward to investigate. He hesitated, then lunged forwards. His teeth clamped onto something and he yanked it hard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ow! Ow! Ow! Gerroffmeletgoithurts!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benny came tumbling out of the foliage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Benny! What have we told you about sneaking up on us! It’s dangerous!” Storm snorted and turned back to the stream. Rowan struggled to her feet, but Benny just waved her back down again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please. You have no need to rise for me. And besides,” he gave her a pointed look. “You are injured.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Storm let out a huff of laughter. “But she really showed that stockman, though!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan frowned. “No I didn’t, I-” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What!” Benny looked at Storm closely. “She </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Storm moved next to Rowan and sat down heavily. “Let me tell you what happened.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thowra danced uneasily through the trees. He was certain that he was being followed, but he couldn’t hear anyone nearby. Even the birds had gone silent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A</span>
  <span> twig snapped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thowra froze, only his eyes moving as he scanned the bush for threats. He swiveled around as he heard bushes rustle. He backed away cautiously, keeping silent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The black tracker stepped slowly into the clearing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Thowra could run, he held up a hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hear me out, Thowra.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thowra baulked. No human knew his name!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know where the stockmen plan to build their yard. I need your help to stop it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seeing that Thowra was still planning to run, he spoke again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Duruga will be captured.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That brought him up short. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who was Duruga?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thowra tilted his head inquisitively at the black tracker, who said, “That stockman you humiliated is quite determined to capture her. He feels that such a magnificent filly should be his. I do not agree with him, but he has convinced his friends that he can capture her.” He smiled again. “My name is Baragula and I can help you. He will not move to find her yet. You are safe for a couple of days, maybe even a week. Think about my offer, O magnificent one. I will help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he disappeared into the bush, he added, “If you need me, find Yanada Wilbing near Broadway Top. She will help you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled, and was gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan slept under the candlebarks while Storm watched over her. Benny rested uneasily nearby, occasionally straying to the stream to drink. They were waiting for Thowra. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a rustling in the bushes and Thowra came into the clearing. He was tired, and stiff from running all day. He was also scared for Rowan. Thowra was debating whether to tell her about the danger or to just lead them far enough away to escape the hunt that was to come. He was also wondering whether Baragula was telling the truth, or if he was herding them towards ground where he knew he could capture them. But… the awe on his face when he had first set eyes on the trio was all too real.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Storm looked up with a start, then relaxed. “It’s about time you showed up. You’re late.” He gestured to Rowan. “She fell asleep waiting for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thowra smiled at the thought, but it didn’t reach his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alas, brother, I bring ill news. That stockman is building a yard, and he means to capture Rowan! Though the black tracker that I met called her Duruga.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Storm frowned, but before he could say anything, Benny spoke: “You must take her to the Secret Valley! Although, if she will tell you, I daresay she has a better hiding place, to have stayed hidden for all these years. I will go, and warn Boon-Boon and Golden that you will not be coming home anytime soon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he left, Rowan woke. Thowra and Storm shared a look of sorrow. They hated to share bad news.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan looked at them sleepily, and shook herself awake at once. Leaping to her feet, she blurted out: “What has happened? What’s wrong? Where’d Benny go?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thowra snorted. “You are very perceptive, young one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, what is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The man wants you, Rowan,” Storm interrupted. “Not us, you. And you alone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want that filly, Baragula! Goddamnit! I will have them both!” The stockman sat a table in Dead Horse Hut, directly across from the black tracker. He slammed his fist into the wooden surface. “The little jerk humiliated me! But have you ever seen such a magnificent filly? Such a rare colour! And the way she just melts into the bush! That beautiful ginger mane and the dappled lilac cloak. She is an aisling, and she will be my Aisling.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked out of the window at the swirling leaves and swaying ghost gums.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aisling and Sylph will be mine.” </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle was hidden in the trees. She watched as Copper sniffed the place where she had been then looked around in puzzlement. He neighed and she did not answer. He neighed again and waited, then began to move off in the direction Maybelle had been leading him. When she was sure he was gone, she turned away and walked silently towards Ash Valley. When she was sure she wouldn’t be heard, she broke into a trot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t gone far when she heard hoofsteps. She froze, recognising the jangle of a bit. Silently, Maybelle melted into the scrub. Soon the stockman rode by, cradling one hand and swearing every time it was jostled. The black mare he was riding looked exhausted, hanging its head and stumbling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Curiosity awoken, Maybelle followed the stockman for a while, before realising that he was tracking something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><em><span>Horses, probably,</span></em><span> she thought, </span><em><span>but he doesn’t seem to be having much luck.</span></em> <em><span>I wonder who he’s trying to follow?</span></em></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she followed him, Maybelle wondered where Rowan could be. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> hoped that the stockman wasn’t trying to find her. That would meant Rowan had been seen, and whilst it was no problem if </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybelle</span>
  </em>
  <span> was seen, since she was invisible unless she wanted to be otherwise. Rowan, though, was always invisible unless she </span>
  <span>was caught off guard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It seemed like ages until the stockman stopped to camp for the night. Maybelle settled nearby so that she could keep an eye on him. Just to make sure he didn’t find Rowan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he broke camp a few hours later, Maybelle felt a growing sense of dread. She had no idea what was causing it, but a few minutes later, she realised what it was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man was heading in the direction of The Silent Pass!</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan and Storm trotted through brush and scrub. Thowra had disappeared into the bush a while ago, heading to The Secret Valley to assure his mares that he had not been captured, and to warn them of the stockman. Rowan was taking Storm to Ash Valley. She was in more than two minds about her plan. She was planning to take Storm as far as the Silent Pass, then she was going to find Maybelle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they approached the entrance to The Silent Pass, Storm stopped dead. He whipped his head from side to side, searching for something. A moment later Rowan sensed it too. There was a man nearby.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A second later they saw him. He was the same stockman as before, sitting on the black mare. They melted back into the bush, but the black mare spotted them. She froze, trying not to give them away, but the man had already noticed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled victoriously. It was a vicious thing, that smile. It promised pain and capture. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The black mare was trembling now. Rowan could see that she had no wish to hunt them down. Rowan felt a flash of anger as she realised that this mare had probably been ridden for days without break.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The mare threw up her head and neighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Run, Aisling! Run while you still can!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The last echoes of her scream faded amongst the trees. Then all hell broke loose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan and Storm charged from the tree line, straight at the stockman. He yelled, and the black mare reared, her hooves pawing the air. As he tried to get her under control, Rowan and Storm raced into the foliage behind him. A voice pierced the chaos.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tyler, be reasonable! You will kill yourself trying to hunt that filly! And think of your poor mare, she is nearly dead already!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was Baragula. He stood at the edge of the clearing, hands on his hips. He was beyond angry. Beyond furious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>livid</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyler merely glared, then raised his shotgun. He fired once, twice, three times at the black tracker, who ducked. Then he wheeled the mare around and raced after the two fleeing brumbies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The chase was horrendous. Rowan was exhausted from her previous gallop, stiff and sore. Her many wounds were slowly working their way open again. Despite all that, she was still galloping with her usual grace. She managed to summon enough breath to say,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There is a trail up ahead that leads to a ravine. I know the way, and the man will not be able to make the jump. I can lose him over the cliff.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Storm glanced at her. “But can you make the jump? To say you look tired is an understatement.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can make it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Storm nodded, and the two switched paths. They quickly found the track and were soon racing along it. Storm leapt into the foliage on the side of the trail and disappeared, melting into the bush.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan raced on, The man still following.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was suddenly doubting her ability to make the jump. She ached all over. Then she thought of Maybelle. Her best friend would never forgive her if she let herself be captured. As she thought of the creamy filly, she felt warm all over. It was then that she knew that she would die for her sister-in-all-but-blood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the jump seemed impossibly far. Rowan could see the ravine now, her view obscured and made out of focus by the trees. It looked impossible. But the man was still following. There was no other way out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was so close.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t do it. I won’t make it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was looming ahead of her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have to.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For Maybelle.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So she gathered her courage, and leapt.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. But Few Could Ride Beside Him When His Blood was Fairly Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Maybelle trotted quietly through scrub, watching and waiting for any sign of Rowan. She knew that her best friend couldn't have gone very far, judging from what she'd seen in the past. Rowan had serious attachment issues to Ash Valley.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Movement up ahead startled her out of her thoughts. She paused at the edge of a clearing. Maybelle looked around in disbelief, for there were clear signs of a struggle. More movement caught her eye, and she backed away from the mound she'd taken to be a strange rock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now she saw a bloodied, dark arm poking out from under a brown overcoat. She stepped up to it cautiously, snorting in fear when it twitched.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly the arm moved again, and Maybelle found herself looking into deep, pain-filled brown eyes. She shied and moved to bolt away, but something about it brought her back. A soft voice murmured reassuring nothings to her. Approaching it again, Maybelle wondered why she trusted this human. She could see now that he was an Aborigine, and Rowan had once told her that Aborigines belonged to the land like the possums and dingoes did. Maybe that was the reason.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nosed the pile of messy clothes and the man kept very still. Suddenly he shifted again and Maybelle snorted. Then, after a few tense seconds of terror, she pushed aside her fear. The man was bleeding! Normally she would just leave the man and get as far away as she could, but this was a black man. Rowan had told her that they belonged to the bush even more than the horses. She couldn't just leave him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With grim determination, she set her teeth in the coat and pulled. It came away with the strange </span>
  <em>
    <span>slop </span>
  </em>
  <span>of wet material. She flung it away from her when she tasted the strange blood soaking it, and looked at the man again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was bleeding heavily from strange-looking stab wounds in his shoulder. It took a few seconds for Maybelle to connect them to the holes that appeared in tree trunks when stockmen had been firing their strange shot-sticks. The man hissed in pain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Please... young one... please he-e-elp..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She lowered her head and he slung his uninjured arm around her neck. Maybelle froze at the contact, terrified at how close this man was. He seemed to realise this, and kept whispering the strange words. He pulled himself to his feet, still leaning heavily on Maybelle, and took a shaky step forward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle felt more than heard another horse come into the clearing. She swung around, accidentally knocking the man down again. She peered between the trees to see Thowra.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thowra!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle froze, her pulse racing. But Thowra only looked down at her with a sad expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We meet at last, young one."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked at the man lying on the ground, coming over to nuzzle his hair. Looking up again, he said to her, "I see you've met Baragula. He tried to warn me how far </span>
  <span>this stockman would go, but I was foolish and did not believe him. It may have cost him his life."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle couldn't believe her ears. The great and majestic Thowra, King of All The Cascades, was calling himself foolish.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thowra?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes, little one?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Have - have you seen Rowan?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He blinked at her, surprised. "Why yes, yes I have. Are you looking for her?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle gasped at the news. "Where is she now?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At this Thowra hung his head. "I do not know."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Movement beneath their feet startled them. Baragula raised himself to his knees. He grasped at Maybelle for support desperately, grabbing hold of her withers. She froze again, unsure whether to be frightened or awed that the man had so much confidence in her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I... I know where … where Duruga i-is."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle frowned. "Duruga?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Rowan," Thowra supplied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sh-she... is running... from-" here he coughed. "-Tyler. Can you help me? I-I, I need Y-Yanada Wilb-bing."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thowra nodded, then knelt down and allowed Baragula to scramble shakily onto his back. He stood up in one fluid motion, nodding to Maybelle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Find Rowan, will you? She has come to mean a lot to Storm and I."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he bounded into the trees and disappeared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a few moments Maybelle could do nothing but stare in shock. Thowra was letting a man ride upon his back! The great stallion must certainly trust Baragula with his very life, to do such a thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, Maybelle, noticing the scuffled tracks leading out of the clearing, nosed them eagerly, realising that they were mere minutes old. She followed them closely. Very soon she came to a trail that she recognised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she followed the trail, Maybelle realised Rowan's plan. From the direction the tracks were leading, there was really only one thing she could be planning to do. The ravine was up ahead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even in her injured state, Rowan would be prepared to do anything to avoid capture. That she was greatly injured would not matter as much as escaping the man, whom Baragula had named Tyler.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, she heard hoof beats up ahead. Maybelle quickly worked her way down to an outcrop that had a good view of the ravine. Here she would be able to see if Rowan would jump or not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan came galloping into view, mane and tail streaming in the wind. Her lilac coat shone in the midday light, her ginger points flashing. But these perfections only made her injuries all the more obvious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her leg was bleeding, as were numerous cuts on her back and withers. She was limping heavily, but somehow still running. Maybelle could see that Rowan was lining herself up so that she could make the jump, but the stockman wouldn't know how to. With luck, the horse he was riding would baulk at the edge of the gap.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan was so close now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle held her breath as her sister-in-all-but-blood came to the edge. She gasped as Rowan faltered, and let it out again when she jumped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It looked like Rowan was flying. She soared over the chasm and landed neatly on the other side, her mane and tail like ginger banners flying behind her, her coat gleaming. For a moment she seemed like a real sprite, such was her perfection and poise. She shook her head and threw that splendid mane back and reared, showing off to the stockman and celebrating her victory.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then she collapsed, finally succumbing to her injuries.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man was not so fortunate. His horse stopped a few metres from the edge of the ravine and Tyler flew off of her back. He landed hard on the ground and promptly skidded towards the edge. Maybelle held her breath as he grabbed onto a protruding root to stay his fall. But then the root gave way and he fell, landing on a clump of rock with a nasty sounding crack crunch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Maybelle had eyes only for Rowan. She bolted up a track, climbing over a bluff to get to her. Maybelle dropped to her knees next to Rowan, casting a mournful eye over her injuries. Hoofbeats behind her sent her to her feet and she whipped around to see Storm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nuzzled Rowan's hair in a fatherly sort of way, looking down at her sadly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Can we help her, Storm?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We will try our best, young one. Now, let us find Thowra."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. He Would Go Wherever Horse and Man Could Go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Thowra bolted through the stringy snow-gums, careful to keep Baragula balanced on his back. The man had already lost too much blood. He was being guided by the little nudges that Baragula gave him. Pretty soon he came to a clearing with a bark hut in it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Here Thowra paused, his maniac dash through the trees leaving him unsettled, as was the strange and unwelcome feeling of blood flowing through his silver mane and down his creamy coat. Baragula raised his head and let out a weak call. A woman came bustling out of the doorway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Baragula? Baragula was that you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thowra moved slightly in the trees, nervous about announcing himself. But Baragula leaned forwards and nudged him onwards. He stepped uncertainly out of the tree line, heart racing. The woman gasped at the sight of him, with a dying black man perched on his back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Y-Yanada."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rushed forwards but stopped when Thowra baulked. Yanada reached out a hand and gently brushed his nose with her finger tips. He let her, though he did not know why, and shifted round so that Yanada could reach Baragula. She eased him off of his back, carrying him into the hut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thowra moved so that he could see into the dwelling, still very much aware of the blood coating his back and sides. He could see Yanada rushing around inside, collecting pots and jars, leaves and strips of bark. Baragula was lying on the table in the centre of the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Minutes later found Thowra lying exhausted outside the hut, trying in vain to clean the blood out of his coat. Yanada came bustling out of the hut again, bearing a bowl, scrubbing brush and some recently baked bread. Thowra surged to his feet and moved as if to bolt off, but Yanada called out quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I will not hurt you, O Magnificent One. I only want to help."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thowra paused, wondering whether he should accept her offer or not. Then he decided that he hated the feeling of sticky blood so much that he would follow a stockman to get rid of it. Surely Yanada wouldn't be so bad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lowered his head in acceptance, letting her move forward and stroke his shoulder. She smiled at the softness of his coat, and gently poured the water in the bowl over his withers. Yanada scrubbed softly at the matted blood, working out the stains. As she did so, she spoke, "I want to thank you for saving Baragula's life. He is like a brother to me, and I hold him dear."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thowra nodded his head in understanding, closing his eyes at the blissful feeling of the blood being washed away. When she was finished she held up the bread to him. Thowra turned his head; he was still wary of humans. Yanada smiled sadly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It’s okay, I understand."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He backed off, starting when she raised her hand. But she only waved sadly, so he turned and fled into the trees.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Storm and Maybelle helped Rowan limp slowly through the trees. She was so exhausted that she could barely summon a coherent thought. All her energy was focused on putting one hoof in front of the other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a rustling in the bushes and Storm stopped abruptly, sending Rowan back down with a thud. Maybelle knelt down next to her. As Storm sniffed cautiously, Thowra stepped through the trees.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thowra!” Storm whinnied happily. “You have returned! We need your help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thowra hurried over. “What happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The stockman happened. Can you help us?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle spoke up, hesitating slightly, “I know a good hiding place where Rowan can heal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Storm, remembering what Benny had said about Rowan’s hiding place, smiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lead on, Maybelle.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle steered a course through the trees, careful to go slow enough for Rowan. It had taken a great deal of courage to volunteer Ash Valley as a hiding place. Before long they had come to the Silent Pass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Storm looked around curiously, having never seen a place like this before. Thowra was a little better at hiding his wonder. As Maybelle led them down the trail, Rowan seemed to recognise where she was, and raised her head to whinny.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In no time at all, the four were standing on the grassy bank of the crystal clear lake, staring up at the towering cliff walls and the cover that the green leaves provided.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rowan sighed happily, overjoyed at being home, even though it had only been a little more than a week since she had last been here. She dipped her nose in the icy water and drank deeply. She sawed her head up and down a couple of times to get rid of the aching stiffness in it, lay down at the waterside - under a young wattle which draped its branches over her - and went to sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next day Rowan wouldn’t wake up. Maybelle shrieked in her ear after ten minutes of trying to shake the injured filly awake. It barely roused her. However, it did wake Storm, Thowra, Benny and several other animals sleeping nearby.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They clustered around Maybelle as she tried to wake the sleeping filly. It took the sun touching her face with it’s golden rays to finally bring her out of the unnatural sleep. It was clear to Storm and Thowra that Rowan needed more help than they could give. They drew back from the crowd and spoke softly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rowan needs help, Thowra, help that we can not give her. What shall we do? She will die if she is not tended soon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thowra looked at Rowan, standing shakily on three legs, as Maybelle fussed over her. “I may know someone who can help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybelle let Rowan drape her head over her neck as the small parade moved slowly up The Silent Pass. As they continued down the path, she wondered where Thowra was taking them, and if Rowan could last the trip. As the left The Silent Pass, Thowra led the way through the trees, taking them down a path that Maybelle had never seen before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before long, they had come to a trail that looked fairly well worn. There were small dabbles of blood on occasional trees. Maybelle and Storm hesitated, but Thowra surged ahead confidently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come, follow me. It is safe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He led them through the trees until they came to Yanada’s clearing. Here, Maybelle stopped dead, refusing to enter the dwelling place of a human. Storm was only slightly more willing. Thowra saw their hesitation and sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Without Yanada, Rowan could die. She will not hurt us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He led Rowan further into the clearing, Maybelle and Storm following apprehensively. He whinnied, and Rowan let out a soft nicker. Yanada poked her head out of the hut and gasped at the sight. Rowan swayed, and Yanada rushed to her. Rowan baulked, her eyes rolling. Maybelle bolted forwards and snapped at the woman, letting Rowan lean on her to limp away. Storm looked on, deliberating, then stepped forwards and ushered the two towards Yanada.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yanada carefully took Rowan’s head in her hands and examined her injuries. Rowan stiffened, but listened to Storm and didn’t pull away. Maybelle watched critically, ready to attack at the first sign of danger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yanada led Rowan slowly to a patch of soft grass, then ran back into the hut and brought back a soft blanket. She spread it on the ground and Rowan lay down on it. Rowan gratefully accepted the comfortable resting place as Yanada bustled around, fetching medicines and mixing potions. She bandaged the filly’s wounds and drip fed her a strange, green ointment, tutting at the largest of the wounds, a deep cut at the base of her skull. It was bleeding profusely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Yanada spread creams on Rowan’s bruises and stitched up the gashes, Baragula appeared in the doorway. He smiled at the sight of Maybelle hovering protectively, as much a mother hen as a two-and-a-bit year old filly could be. He nodded at Storm, watching over Rowan from the edges of the clearing and smiled gratefully at Thowra, thanking the great stallion for saving his life. Yanada finished with Rowan and wandered over to join Baragula in the doorway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look at what one white man has done, Yanada. There are many people in your debt, but Duruga and I perhaps the most.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yanada smiled sadly, her eyes on the resting filly, who was snapping occasionally at Maybelle as her mothering became too over protective. “They are not in my debt, but I in theirs. It was my charge to help them, and I do so willingly. It brings me joy to see them recovering.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both of the Aborigines smiled with relief as Rowan pushed herself to her feet, and as the birds chanted in the trees limped over to the creek, lowering her head to drink. Maybelle joined her, and in that instant, as the sun set over the Snowy Mountains, it was like nothing bad had ever happened.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>There you have it folks. My scrambling attempt to make a fic I wrote like five years ago passable as actual writing. I don't like it very much, but I guess I can toss it to the wolves anyway. Hope you enjoyed it (you may be entitled to compensation if it's as bad as I think) and have a happy 2021!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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